


New Chances

by ChroMaxi_3337



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alcohol, Career Change, Difficult Decisions, Doubt, Gen, Genocide, Mental Health Issues, My First Fanfic, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s02e17 The Honorable Ones, Post-Reflections, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, inner conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25706635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChroMaxi_3337/pseuds/ChroMaxi_3337
Summary: After the experience on Bahryn, Kallus has a difficult decision to make. Fortunately there is someone who gives him a push in the right direction.OrHow Agent Kallus becomes Fulcrum.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	New Chances

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fanfiction and additionally, English is not my first language. That's why I am glad about any feedback/comments!
> 
> The story is about how Kallus becomes Fulcrum. Since this scene was never shown in the series, I came up with my own ideas.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! :)

*The Lasat was calmly walking through the smoke and fire, stepping over the dead bodies that once belonged to Kallus’ first unit. The ones that had survived the blast of the explosion were then brutally killed by the mercenary. Kallus could hear one of his troopers begging for mercy, followed by a shot, a shout and silence.  
He tried to stand up and to protect his men. After all, their fate was his responsibility as their leader. But he found he couldn’t move. His whole body ached, his head was endlessly spinning and there was this annoying ringing in his ears. The ISB-Agent started to list all of his possible injuries – hopefully they weren’t permanent. But his thoughts were interrupted as the Lasat discovered him. With heavy steps he made it over to Kallus, pointing his weapon at the wounded man’s head. Kallus’ eyes grew wider with realization as he knew what was coming next.  
He saw his opponent pulling the trigger and –*

Drenched in sweat, Alexsandr Kallus woke from his nightmare. Heavily panting, he made sure that he was still at the imperial base on Corellia. Slowly, he sat up and slid to the edge of his bed. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could go back to sleep that he so desperately needed.  
*This is all your fault, Garazeb,* Kallus thought. After Bahryn, the nightmares of his first unit’s slaughter became more frequent than ever before. And additionally the massacre of Lasan crept into his once so peaceful sleep, too, which was even worse. He felt guilt that was so heavy, he feared that his legs would give out with every step he would take. He felt shame for having used the T-7 ion disruptors that were the most dishonorable way to end a life. And he felt disgust that the Empire even had rewarded him for his “brave actions” on Lasan.  
He hadn’t slept in days and it felt like he would never be able to sleep again. It’s ironic that something he had been so proud of and that had shaped his whole imperial career would now be something he wished that would have never happened.  
In these moments, he wished the mercenary had killed him. He should have died there with his men. So why had the Lasat decided to let the Agent live? Did he want to punish him by persecuting him over and over again in his dreams? Would he have decided otherwise if he had known that the man he had spared would wipe out his entire people?  
*Wipe out his entire people.* He cringed at this thought. But it was the truth. Under his command nobody was spared. Men, women – even children – were killed without mercy. Although he told Orrelios on that moon that it was nothing personal, he had seen every Lasat as the same cold-blooded monster that had murdered his unit. And to be honest, that made the genocide much easier to justify. At least in the past.  
But Zeb was right: Not every Lasat was the same. He proved that by helping Kallus to survive on that cold moon. Alexsandr wasn’t sure if he would have left him alive in his place. He doubted it, and that was another thing he felt ashamed of.  
It seemed like the events on the Geonosian moon had changed something deep inside of Kallus. He started to realize that he had no right to end all those innocent lives, and neither had the Empire the right to do so on other worlds. For the first time in his life, the Imperial Security Bureau Agent questioned the actions of his Empire.

To say there was an inner conflict going on in the Agent’s head would be an understatement. It was a brutal battle that was tearing up his brain.  
*What would you do when you find out that your whole life and all you stood for seems to be a lie?*  
When he looked down he saw his hands shaking uncontrollably. He definitely needed a drink. 

Kallus managed to leave the base without attracting unnecessary attention. He took a speeder and made his way to Coronet City, the planet’s capital, hoping to find a decent cantina.   
He crossed the large roads and saw the enormous shipyards on which imperial star destroyers were built. He didn’t want to think about how everyone’s lives changed after the Empire settled here. He knew all too well that the working conditions in those facilities were miserable.  
As he caught sight of the red-luminous sign “Coronet Cantina”, he slowed down and got off the speeder to enter the bar. When the door slid open, a warm and stuffy smell crept into Kallus’ nose. Normally, he would have immediately turned around to look for another place, but he was too tired to care, so instead he walked in and sat down at the counter. The Rodian bartender friendly asked him what he could bring him, although he shot a disgusted look at the ISB-uniform. Kallus couldn’t blame him for his dislike of the xenophobic Empire. Who knows what they have done to him or his family...  
The time passed by and Kallus did nothing but stare at his drink, thoughts running through his head. He had ordered a very strong kind of alcoholic cocktail, but still waited for its effects.  
At first, he didn’t notice the dark figure that was coming from behind and was sitting down next to him. Slowly, his gaze went from his glass to the person who wore a black robe that also covered most of the face. The hood and the darkness that filled the room made it impossible to identify the person underneath it.   
“Tough day, Agent Kallus?” the figure asked. It was a female voice; gentle but strong and full of confidence. And it seemed that she knew him.  
“Who are you?” Kallus asked cautiously. Automatically, his muscles tensed and his hands clenched to fists. He was preparing himself for a fight or whatever would come next. It was one of those unbreakable habits that he had learned in the ISB-training.  
“A friend,” the response came. Although that wasn’t nearly enough information to satisfy Kallus’ suspicion, he felt himself relax a bit. For some reason, a feeling of security and comfort started to surround him – maybe it had something to do with the alcohol in his body, too. “And I am here to help you,” she continued.  
An expression of surprise washed over the Agent’s face. “To help me with what?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. The stranger pulled out a datapad and put it on the counter.  
“To make the right decision. I know that you’re feeling guilty and I give you the chance to amend all the wrong you did in the name of the Empire,” she explained. “Don’t you want to be able to sleep again?”  
*How does she know!?* Kallus wondered. There could only be one explanation for all of this. “Are you part of the rebellion?” he asked carefully, not wanting to attract attention from others in the cantina.  
Despite giving an answer, the person just left him alone and confused at the bar. Shortly thereafter, he threw some credits at the counter, grabbed the datapad and returned to the base.

Sitting at his desk, he turned the pad on. First, he saw a symbol he couldn’t identify. Underneath it he read: “Codename: Fulcrum” and then there was a number. It seemed to be a communication line; and it was non-imperial. Kallus knew what that meant, and he knew that it was a new chance given to him by the people he used to chase across the galaxy. He wasn’t sure if he deserved that second chance, but he would use it. He made his decision and there was no turning back now. He activated the communicator and started his first transmission.

“This is Fulcrum, and I have information that may support your fight against the Empire.”


End file.
